


You, Again

by ziegler



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (kind of), Dirty Talk, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Masturbation, Moicy, Moircy, Phone Sex, Romance, Sex, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 19:22:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12800676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziegler/pseuds/ziegler
Summary: After months of fooling around, Moira just can't seem to leave Angela alone - and finds a very inventive way to get the good doctor hot under the collar all over again.





	You, Again

**Author's Note:**

> I just can't seem to get a grip with how much I love the sheer potential of these two. Thank you for so many lovely comments and kudos on my other fic for Moira and Mercy. Enjoy!

“Angela? It’s me.”

_What?_

_How did she get onto this line?_

“Can you believe it? I can’t _believe_ Sombra pulled this off. What a wonderful situation to find myself in. And indeed, for you, too! Right?”

 _Oh no_ , Angela thought. _Not now. Oh, shit_.

“I’m going to have some fun with you during your meeting. In fact, I know you have a meeting today, Angela. I’m always happy to remind you just who you're in service of, darling! But especially in a situation where you’re so helpless.”

The familiar chuckle from Moira reached Angela’s ears, as did the creak of the chair she was sitting on at the end of the receiver. Angela can hear her fiddling with the familiar, medics-only earpiece from her ear; Sombra really must be something if she can crack the code of these.

“Very handy, these earpieces they give us medics. Aren’t they, love?” Moira muses, and Angela hates to admit that the Irish accent makes her melt. “It’s a crying shame you can’t hack them. Well… _we_ can’t. Bloody hard things to hack, so they are. But you know I have access to someone who _can_ , don’t you?”

Angela remains silent. Moira’s intonation indicates a large grin that Angela knows too damn well.

“And she _did_.”

 _Shit_.

“Alright, everyone! Good morning,” Winston booms as he walks into the room, with several other members of Overwatch in tow. They all scrape out their seats from beneath the unnecessarily large, metal table, and take their seats accordingly. “Let’s begin, shall we?”

Angela Ziegler knew this would be her most interesting meeting yet, and for every reason under the sun that she didn’t want it to be. Well…that she didn’t want to _admit_ that she wanted.

She could picture Moira O’Deorain so perfectly at this moment.

Her handsome face, her fiery hair; her alabaster skin complimenting her intense, dark eyes. The different colours of them fascinated her endlessly. Angela cursed her under her breath.

She stared down furiously at the sheet of paper before her without reading a single word.

“I must say,” Moira continued in Angela’s ear, who was sat frozen to her chair, and also tingling with anticipation of shivers of delight down her spine. “Sombra was a little confused as to why I wanted this. And you know, I told her the truth. I told her I’ve been planning this for a while, you know? It was just par for the course that I wanted to grab your attention, really. I don’t think she believed that my intentions were to solely just invade your meeting…but to be perfectly frank, I also don’t care.”

Angela hasn’t been paying attention to the surrounding meeting.

The mood changes from one to a hundred.

“I want to fuck you, Angela. I’m going to make you want me more than you could ever imagine.”

Angela feels her head spin with the sensation of receiving a dirty call in the middle of her workday.

She covers her mouth subtly as she whispers,

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Please do, baby.”

“Don’t ca-”

Winston clears his throat to everyone at the desk amidst the chatter in Angela’s ear, who shuffles in her seat in reflex.

She deliberately avoids looking at him, and Moira laughs at knowing that she’s trying to work her way out of a situation with her legs crossed.

He blinks twice, unsure of the atmosphere of the woman across from him, before looking down at the papers on his desk.

“Well, we need to discuss what to do about the budgets…” he says to no-one in particular, obviously having moved on. His attention is focused on Lena Oxton, who is now asking about what to do about something or other.

Moira is at _least_ good enough to wait for a moment; but only for a moment.

She waits until she can hear the inane chatter about things she doesn’t care about going on in the background before she can fully tease Angela to her heart’s content.

This is exactly what both women wanted; whether Angela wanted to admit this to herself or not.

“It’s been an eventful few weeks, hasn’t it?” Moira asks casually, as though this very question were the purpose of enlisting a master hacker to unlock Angela’s earpiece all along. “We finally cosy up after all the missed opportunities to meet. All of our scientific differences. All of our resentment made productive…and then…”

Angela swallowed silently. Moira paused, before she laughed to herself.

“Well…it makes all the difference when you make your rival come against you, doesn’t it, love?”

_Shit. God damn it. Why is this happening to me?_

“Do you like having my voice so close in your ear, Angela? Or…perhaps I should call you Mercy for the more…authoritarian effect? What would you prefer?”

_Fuck._

“You liked my voice in your ear last night, didn’t you? Feeling you moaning against my lips, letting me have you up against your apartment’s wall…honestly, thinking about it is enough to rile me up. You love being made to be so submissive. It _really_ turns me on, you know.”

Angela presses her lips together, and crosses one leg over the other. She thanked her lucky stars she’d chose to wear a skirt today.

The chatter of the meeting room is background noise, and she’s completely checked out. Her eyes stare furiously at the plastic, vividly green plants placed around the white walls of the room as though they were the most interesting thing she’d seen in her life. She carefully places one gloved hand over her mouth subtly, to say,

“Call me Mercy.”

and then promptly removes it to rub the back of her neck.

“Oh?” Moira says with a satisfied grin that Angela can picture perfectly in her mind already. “I’m to call you Mercy, am I? Do you like that?”

Angela doesn’t respond, but instead shuffles in her seat to try and calm the throbbing in between her legs. The rush of excitement she got with Moira could only be described as euphoric, and Moira knew it. She knew Moira felt the same about breaking the rules of their respective sides. Angela felt a heat rising to her cheeks, and furiously did her best to restrain it.

Moira leant back in her seat again.

“Mercy…” she spoke, in her demure, deep voice. “ _Mercy_ …ah…”

Angela finally realized what she was doing after a few more whispers, and her eyes widened. She mentally swore for the hundredth time.

“Oh, Mercy…won’t you let me touch you?” Moira pleaded in a heat that Angela recognized, and Angela could hear the ever present smug smile. “Come on, let me touch you…why don’t we try the shower this time? Or I’ll even shove you face down into my mattress all over again. Spoil me with you.”

Angela couldn’t help but let out a tiny, unrestrained noise of pleasure into her hand, which was not unnoticed, but thankfully mistaken for anguish.

“You alright, love?” Tracer asked Angela out of the blue, who nodded hastily in return.

“Oh! I’m fine,” Angela replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I’m just feeling a little…”

“Turned on?” Moira asked into the receiver. Angela was quickly knocked back into reality.

“… _Distracted_.”

Tracer nodded in an earnest agreement.

“Yeah, it’s a pain in the arse that we have to be here on one of our days off.” she sighed, and Winston nodded in agreement. “Let’s just try to speed through it quick as possible!”

Angela nodded as though she didn’t have Moira’s lustful breath resounding in her ear, and crossed her legs once more.

“Are you feeling sensitive, Mercy? Do you want my head between your legs? I love it when you clench your thighs that little bit harder when I lick where you want me to. I swear, I can feel it throb when I roll my tongue against it.”

Angela pressed down between her legs hard.

“I want to suck against your clit, _Mercy_. Nice and gentle, or as hard as you want me to. I want to taste you against my lips, and certainly on my tongue. Mm…”

Hearing Moira be so shameless was indescribable to Angela. Every part of her body felt so _sensitive_. Her breasts, her thighs, in between her legs; everywhere Moira had touched felt almost amplified by a thousand with how insatiable she was feeling. Moira was always irresistible to her as it was – as much as she hated to admit it – but this time was almost bordering on torturous.

Her legs crossed over one another, with her thighs squeezing hard against her clit to stop it from aching.

She placed a hand over her mouth again rather subtly.

“I’m going to make you fuck the life out of me later.”

“Darling,” Moira replied, still with laboured breaths, “I was planning on it.”

Angela shifted her weight once more. Moira made another noise of pleasure, an octave higher than usual as she hit her own sweet spot; her slender fingers gliding their fingertips in alternating heavy to light circles around her clit. Angela could picture it all perfectly, and it was driving her crazy.

“Are you wearing a skirt?” Moira asked eagerly. Angela whispered that she was, and Moira made a noise of sheer delight. “You really are so unfair. You left so quickly this morning. How could you not let me fuck you once more before leaving?”

Angela knew if she stayed…well, she _wouldn’t_ leave. She hadn’t wanted to risk staying in bed with Moira instead of going to work. The two of them had taken to sleeping together after the sex, which Angela had not been expecting.

It was a little dangerous to think that she could be falling in love with Moira O’Deorain. So she tried every active route not to do that -

“Do you want to go down on me, Mercy? Do you want me to make you the submissive, good girl that you like to think that you are?”

\- but even now, even in the heat of this intense lust; this shameless, personal excursion; she was failing.

“I _love_ fucking you. It gives me such a rush to feel your back arching when I’ve fucked you for hours. When I’ve entangled myself with you, when you’ve torn up my back from the resentment you feel to our attraction. When I feel your thighs around my waist, Mercy…oh, Angela…”

_Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck._

“May I be excused?”

_Wait. What?_

“…Um, of course.”

Angela blinks, and Moira laughs triumphantly at the other end of the receiver.

“My, my…was that too much for you, darling?”

Angela had stood up without realizing, and the scrape of the chair echoed in her ears from the unexpected sound and non-realization of it happening. Angela tugged a little at her skirt to pull down over her legs to a more… _respectable_ level in a workplace, she thought. Her heels hurriedly clicked all the way to the door of the meeting room, almost throwing it open with disdain, and then sped up into an almost full pelt to the bathroom.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” Angela exclaimed angrily, “I mean it, Moira. You’re going to die.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, pet. And besides, you loved it, didn’t you?”

Angela remained silent as she rushed into a cubicle, and sat down on the edge of the toilet’s lid.

“Shut up.”

“You can’t make me this time, can you, _Mercy_?”

Angela grit her teeth as she shoved a hand beneath the hem of her skirt. Her fingers touched at her clit – she was soaking wet. God damn it.

“I know you’re fantasising about my tongue between your legs. The way my hands grip to how delicious your thighs are…the way that I steer your clit against my tongue with the sensitivity of your hips. Isn’t that right?”

Angela leans forward a little from the sheer sensation of being so turned on and continually stimulated by a voice all at once. She can feel how flushed her face is, how much every sexually-stimulated part of her is aching for Moira’s touch.

“Ugh…so what if I do…” she moans into the receiver, and Moira makes a noise of a familiar grunt that Angela knows all too well. “Fuck you…for doing this to me…”

“If only, Angela, I-”

“Ah, Moira--!”

Angela begins to lose herself as her hand rubs hard in between her legs. Rubbing hard and slipping two fingers teasingly in and out of herself, just like Moira does when they kiss slowly for a long time; fuck, remembering _everything_ they do was bad enough, let alone hearing Moira’s voice teasingly in her ear.

Even Moira’s breath is a sharp intake at hearing Angela so teased.

“Do you like it when we kiss for so long?”

“Yes…”

“What about when I touch you while we do?”

“God, yes…”

Moira is becoming a little too turned on for someone who wanted such a triumphant teasing against the woman she – as much as she hates to admit it – loves. But only in a _sexual_ sense, she convinces herself at night.

The two are failing together.

“I…Mercy…”

Angela felt herself close to coming.

“Moira, please…god, why aren’t you _here_ …!”

“Are you thinking about me fucking you on your sofa?”

“Yes!”

It was true. The thought of Moira fucking her so...so damn _passionately_ on the sofa of Angela’s apartment was almost too much to bear. How quickly it had happened, how passionately and full of unbridled lust it had been, every time then and after. With the two sitting together watching television idly as though that wasn’t exactly what they were there for, and then the sudden sensation of Angela’s hands buried in Moira’s hair as she straddles her lap.

It was too much to bear.

“Do you like it when I grind in between your legs?” Moira asks, and Angela can hear that she’s touching herself harder. “Ugh…I…”

“Moira…I want to…”

“I’m going to fuck you so hard. Please you…” Moira breathes, and Angela can feel herself close to an orgasm at hearing how turned on Moira has become. “I’m going to make sure…you can’t even remember which name you prefer…damn it, Angela…”

“Fuck-!”

Hearing Moira’s voice so intense and dripping with desire was sending Angela crazy. She was taken back to every time before, every time where Moira would have one hand around her throat and the other fucking her as roughly as she’d been begging. All the times where Moira would be squirming against her tongue. All of the times where Moira and her had kissed during their breathers of sex before going back at it again. It was a relationship completely _dipped_ in lust; an insatiable, sky-rocketing sensation of it.

“Moira…ah, Moira...” Angela whispered in forcibly strained, quiet breaths, and Moira’s breathing hitched.

“Fuck…again!”

Angela was the one who was smugly laughing in between her dizziness.

“Oh? You love to hear me say your name, don’t you?”

“Do it _again_! Now!” Moira barked through grit teeth, and Angela felt her share of the smugness sink in.

“…Moira…” Angela breathed, resting her head against the door of the inside of the cubicle. “…fuck…!”

Moira let out a noise that Angela knew well; a low, gasping breath, followed by a noise of relief in her ear.

Angela laughed, as Moira made a noise of surprise.

“You set all of this up, and you were the one to come fir-”

“Mercy,” Moira interrupted defiantly, undeterred by her shaking hands and quivering body, “you’d better come thinking of me. Think.”

Angela rubbed at her clit in exactly the ways that she liked both herself and Moira to do, and felt the dizzying, achingly wonderful sensation of the orgasm rushing to her as Moira barked more orders at her. 

"Ah-!"

Her legs trembled. Angela slammed her free hand over her mouth, biting at the side of it as she came, and in doing so, forcing herself not to scream; and as soon as she felt herself go, she felt her trembling legs go slack, and her sticky forehead resting against the back of the cubicle's door.

 _Thank God this is clean_ , Angela thought, _or this would have been a much less pleasant endeavour._

Moira laughs at the other end of the receiver after they pause for breath.

“…Did you enjoy that?”

There is a long pause filled with nothing but breathing. Angela laughs into the microphone slightly bashfully, and she can hear Moira's smile at the other end.

She - worryingly - feels butterflies in her stomach. 

“Are you joking?” Angela asked, laughing as she leaned back. “Oh, my God. What the fuck are you playing at?”

Moira laughed to herself, and for a moment – as the two laughed at the end of each other’s receiver – it almost felt as though they were in a normal relationship.

One without all of this private resentment. Without the not so private hatred for the other’s values and morals. Angela and Moira knew that they could never agree on certain things, but in the bedroom, that made it somehow all the more exciting. Angela knew she shouldn’t be in Moira’s arms, and Moira knew that she should have hurled Angela in to Talon the moment she got her claws into her.

But something stopped her.

“…I’ll...pick you up later.”

_Wait. What?_

“Pick me up...? You must be joking.”

“No. I’ll pick you up later. We can…we can go somewhere. Don't worry, I’ll hover around away from your precious Overwatch friends, and you can come to me. Alright?”

Angela blinked, confused, and still slack with her limbs.

“ _What_?”

“Let’s spend some time together,” Moira stated casually, “because I’d like to at least know a bit about the woman that gets on my nerves so much.”

“You. _You_ , Moira O’Deorain, want to _spend time together_? You know what you just did to me, right? Is that code for something?”

“No. What are you on about? Can’t a woman have a slightly less sexually fuelled side?”

Angela paused, before she chuckled, and felt the strange, indescribable feeling that Moira was conveying across.

“You just aren’t the sentimental type.”

“Neither are _you_ , gorgeous, and here we are. What’s the harm in spending some time with me?”

Was Moira changing, being around her…? 

Angela began to realise something pivotal, and something that she dreaded would happen - and that was that she wanted to find out. 

“…Okay.” she replied, with a smile she couldn't restrain.

It had happened. She knew it had. 

_Shit._

“Good. See you, then. Thanks for the lovely time.”

And with that - and one final, relieved sigh from Angela at the sensations relaxing her body - Moira had already given Angela something else to look forward to.

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed this, then i'm happy to say i just finished writing my first game as part of Noodletub Games - and it's out on Steam right now! it's called The Ghost of You. if you want to sink your teeth into a suspense-horror-love story about an entirely lesbian cast, then please check it out [here](https://noodletub.tumblr.com/post/181306988281/the-ghost-of-you-out-now-on-steam)! thank you so much! ♥


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